


Sickness of the Stomach and Mind

by nursal1060



Series: Johnlock Romantic Adventures [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Best Friends, Detectives, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Gay, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, John Helps Sherlock, John is a Good Friend, Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Recovery, Rehabilitation, Romantic Friendship, Sad, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock has anorexia, Sherlock is a Mess, Yaoi, innocent relationship, john is worried, sherlock x john, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9034775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nursal1060/pseuds/nursal1060
Summary: After being arrogant and busy for a number of weeks, Sherlock slips into a habitual eating disorder. John doesn't know how to help until bad things start happening. Sherlock comes first to John, and he's willing to do anything to help him, even if it means breaking his own moral or romantic code.





	

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Anorexia/Eating Disorders (if you didn't read the tags)  
> This is loosely inspired on my sister and my own eating disorders and the struggle our family went through, as she had anorexia and I have binge eating disorder. Please be aware of this and do not leave any rude comments, any eating disorder is a serious matter and should not be taken lightly/criticized negatively/loosely.  
> ON ANOTHER NOTE: This is my first Sherlock fic, I just watched season 1, so forgive me if I make any mistakes that I was not aware of!
> 
> Enjoy, comments/kudos are appreciated <3

Sherlock heard a growl in his apartment’s main room. Blinking a few times in concentrated confusion, he looked around. Neither John nor Mrs. Hudson were present in the apartment with him, yet there was a second growl.  
He looked down at his abdomen and placed a hand on it, feeling it rumble. It was a sound he was familiar with: that of hunger.  
Living on a detective’s budget and often being extremely preoccupied meant that Sherlock often went days without eating a proper meal, even if he had connections. Since picking up the newest of his cases, he found himself struggling to recalled when he had a meal. Or something other than the occasional biscuits and tea.  
What was today? Tuesday…? He remembered going out for dinner with his partner, John, on Friday… had he really not eaten right for almost 4 days?  
He took a moment to make walk himself over to the kitchen and make himself some tea and have a biscuit. Sherlock took the smallest bite of a dry biscuit. However, as soon as he swallowed, he got the worse response of heaviness from his stomach.  
Food made him feel sick… he had felt that recently. He quickly pushed his hand into his mouth to force himself to vomit out the little bit of biscuit that he swallowed as well some excess stomach fluids.  
Once he was done vomiting into the rubbish bin, he wiped his mouth and went to the washroom to rinse his mouth of the repulsive taste. Sherlock brushed his teeth meticulously before looking into the mirror and tensing up.  
Sherlock looked himself over. He had lost a lot of weight recently, his cheeks were sinking in further, his skin looked pale and dull, he looked weak...like he was a changed man.  
Sherlock rubbed his very prominent jawline, saying aloud to the mirror, “As long as no one bothers to connect the dots, I will be fine...I don’t need to conform to human standards...I’ll be...just...fine.” To Sherlock, less food was better, and despite his attempt, the ability to keep his weight loss appear under control seemed impossible. John begun noticing Sherlock’s unwillingness to go out for dinners, not eating the leftovers for him in the fridge, using nicotine patches far more frequently, not having the energy to run after criminals anymore, being irritable, even ‘coughing’ into napkins when John brought him biscuits with his tea. John was growing concerned by the change in behavior.  
John asked him in the evening after a day working on the case, “Sherlock...um…”  
Sherlock typed away, asking halfheartedly, “Hmm?”  
John asked, “Are you feeling quite alright now?”  
Sherlock said monotonously, “Define okay.”  
John asked sheepishly, “You've been acting weird, are you sick? Are you sleeping and eating well?” The word ‘eating’ caused Sherlock to stop typing.  
Sherlock said, “Why yes, now if you don't mind Watson, I would appreciate you find me all the relationships this victim had.”  
John said, “Sherlock, this is serious.”  
Sherlock said, “As is this, so get to it. Time is money and lives.” John groaned and went to look up possible leads while making a note to himself to observe his housemate more closely. He went downstairs in the late hours of that night to chat with Mrs. Hudson.  
She answered her door quickly, “Oh, John Watson, it's good to see you. What has you awake at this late hour?”  
John cut to the chase, “Mrs. Hudson, have you noticed recently that Sherlock has...thinned out a bit recently?”  
She thought for a moment, “Come to think of it, he has. I wonder why? Maybe got himself a girlfriend or boyfriend, that's often why so many young people shed kilos.”  
John said, concerned, “Mrs. Hudson, this is serious...he’s lost a lot of weight, I'm concerned he may be ill. He isn't the type to go to the doctors even if he is.”  
She looked a little concerned too, “Well you are a doctor, maybe ask him tomorrow about his symptoms.”  
John said, “I will, but he's been drowning in the case.”  
Mts. Hudson said, “Then you better slow him down a little.” John nodded and returned upstairs. He decided before bed was a better time to ask Sherlock about his health.  
John opened the door the room, starting with, “Sherlock, I imagine you don't like me pestering but- SHERLOCK!” Sherlock had fallen out of his chair and lay on the floor, passed out. John was at his side in moments, turning him onto his back and feeling for vital signs. Sherlock was alive but his health was extremely poor, even from a single glance over. John moved Sherlock’s arm to check for a pulse. It was very faint, and looking closer, John realized there was practically no muscle or body fat on Sherlock's arms at all. He rolled up Sherlock’s shirt and saw his stomach had sunk inwards and his hip bones were protruding visibly.  
John was alarmed, this illness or lack of eating properly had to have been going on for weeks, probably at minimum 2 months, if not much longer. He frantically phoned a cab to get Sherlock to a hospital as fast as possible.

Sherlock awoke in a sea of whiteness to the smell of antiseptic solution. He had to blink a few times before he focused and noticed that he wasn't in a dream anymore. He clenched his fist to realize that he was hooked to an IV. Why was he here? Last he remembered was that he was typing up a case report on his blog and nothing after.  
He looked around, noticing the hospital scene. The room was incredibly quiet, but he could make out a figure not too far away. Beyond the door was a silhouette of John Watson, talking to someone that Sherlock couldn't see, probably a nurse or doctor. Good lord, Sherlock hated hospital settings. He wanted to leave but trying to move his arm set off alarm bells in his head: he was too weak to move coherently. His body spasmed a little but he couldn't bring himself to stand up.  
Weakness… he had never felt this type of weakness. He hated it…  
John came in after a moment, “Sherlock, you're awake.”  
Sherlock said, “It seems so. Why am I here, we have a case to pursue-”  
John cut him off, “Sherlock...stop. You almost died.”  
Sherlock paused a moment before asking, “What?”  
John sat near him and said in slight anger, “11 and a half kilos (roughly 25 pounds)! You lost almost 11 and a half kilos since you last came here! Dear lord Holmes, what have you been doing to yourself?”  
Sherlock answered, “Nothing.”  
John glared, “If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be here.” He stood and lifted Sherlock’s arm, saying, “Expressing every symptom of anorexia nervosa...except for your motivation. You don’t care about impressing anyone or want to be thin, I know you too well.”  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “There’s a reason I chose you as my partner. No one else would have noticed the latter part.”  
John said firmly, “Then answer me why. Why would you do this to yourself?”  
Sherlock said, “Eating is a bother.”  
John asked, “Would dying be a better alternative?”  
Sherlock answered emotionlessly, “Maybe.” John looked exasperated for a moment before walking to the side of the bed and opening a small box. A delectable aroma filled the room. It was vegetable soup, Mrs. Hudson had helped John make it.  
Sherlock said firmly, “No.”  
John turned and glared, “I won’t take no for an answer.”  
Sherlock said, “Well it’s still no.”  
John sighed and said, “I’ve let you do as you wanted for the longest time, Sherlock. I’ve known you for a long while. This time, I give the orders.” A shiver rippled down Sherlock’s spine at the slight dominance that John was putting into their detective life game. John put a spoon of soup into Sherlock’s mouth, holding his hand over Sherlock’s mouth to ensure he swallowed. Sherlock’s eyes widened, his eyes swelled with tears, he was going to choke if he didn’t swallow. John knew this. Reluctantly, he swallowed. John repeated this a few times before Sherlock pushed John away weakly.  
John said, “You barely ate anything.”  
Sherlock said, “At least I didn’t spit it out. It makes me feel-” He dragged out his final words, “-filthy and human.”  
John argued, “You are human. So am I.” John put soup to his lips and leaned in, kissing and making Sherlock drink it. “Is that better?”  
Sherlock looked astonished for a moment before a smile returned to his face, “More bearable.” John repeated it a few times before Sherlock’s weak stomach was filled. He hadn’t been full for so long, but this time, the fullness was not unwelcome. John smiled happily, and Sherlock returned it, before the two snorted and chuckled to themselves. John rested his head besides Sherlock’s, and once again, Sherlock felt a strange warmth in his chest where his heart was. He didn’t really understand, but all he knew was that John was concerned...and he was right. Now he had to get back on his feet before the police department found a replacement for the infamous duo.  
With John by his side, it was only a matter of time, Sherlock knew it wouldn’t be long before they were back to their wild adventures.


End file.
